He broke off for a moment with a little wry smile. “In my case they were serious. There was a woman of hysterical temperament with a diseased imagination. I was overworked and a trifle overwrought, and had a glass of brandy too much at a certain committee lunch. Then there was a rather delicate operation in a hospital, and though I’m not sure yet that I blundered, it was suggested that I did, and the thing was complicated by what the woman said when the committee took it up. It didn’t matter that the patient recovered, for when he took action against the woman, the thing made a sensation in the Eastern papers.”
He looked at Nasmyth with a question in his eyes.
“Now,” he said, “you more or less understand my reasons for ranching here. How’s it going to affect you?”
Nasmyth gazed reflectively towards the East. “I think,” he replied, “there are more of us who have left a good deal behind back yonder. Perhaps it’s fortunate that the thing is possible.”
Then he swung his axe again, and Gordon, who saw Waynefleet approaching, strolled away towards the ranch-owner.